Justice in Gotham Exists?
by Waffles7
Summary: A newly minted Assistant District Attorney (ADA) Marylou Evans has yet to realize that there is a reason why ADAs do not last long in Gotham. This will likely be a 3-Shot.
1. Prologue

A/N: This is the prologue to what will be a three-shot. My Riddler muse has popped up and demanded I write. This is set in the New 52 universe. Ten Years after Zero Year.

* * *

Silence laid over the room as twelve pairs of feet shuffled from the side door and into their chairs of the jury box. The jury itself filled with a mixture of Gothamites. One from the upper East side, lounged in jewels and fake fur, another barely managing to put on a shirt without a stain from the local deli, and another working three jobs to pay their rent. Each juror had their own story to tell, there own experience in Gotham, but each juror was also a Gothamite who understood this town better than any outsider ever could. Because if you spoke to an outsider about Gotham's justice system, it only left them confused or cynical. Even though criminals like the Joker and the Scarecrow continuously terrorized the city, killing hundreds if not thousands of people, the Gotham jury box often deemed them criminally insane sending them to the revolving door of Arkham Asylum where in a few weeks such criminals would be back on the street. Yet it happened. Again. And again. Scholars from outside the city from the big fancy colleges such as Harvard and Georgetown speculated on whether the jurors had been threaten, whether the law written in Gotham had a lower definition of criminally insane, whether the criminals had become so celebritized that even the citizens victimized by them have turned to idolization. The theories spanned multiple books in the field of criminal research, yet any person in Gotham could answer the question.

 _I don't need no fancy scholars telling 'em what is insane. Any guy that dresses up in his knickers' is freakin' insane._

Therefore, the press waiting in the audience with their notepads had already set in their minds the evening headlines. They seemed rather disinterested in the actual proceedings, basically waiting for a known fact. Unable to bring cameras into the courtroom, they were left with describing the scene through their notes. The audience itself was filled with the latest victims' families from a four-day affair of a criminal rampage on the city, officers personally involved in the case, other reporters, and oddly Bruce Wayne. Mr. Wayne had attended a few court proceedings in the past of some of the big name rogues, but there were rumors that the real reasons he was here was the newly appointed Assistant District Attorney who stood at the prosecutors table.

Marylou Evans. She stood straight, wearing a black sleeved dress with her hands held behind her back. Her brown hair had been pulled into a messy bun with a few strands framing her face. Her face pale as the rest of her, but looking even paler from her exhaustion. It had been one of the more engaging trials of a criminal in the rogue gallery. It was her first large case, and she certainly came in wanting to prove something to Gotham. Reporters had wrote a few quotes in their notebook from her through the weeklong trial.

 _"Do not be fooled because that is what he expects. He expects to fool you. He expects to fool all of Gotham. But he doesn't understand Gotham. He never will."_

 _"He murdered fifteen people. Fifteen. Fifteen families who lives will never be the same because of this man's actions, yet he does not want to take responsibility. He does not want to take responsibility because he was miles away off in his own mind. Yet it was his hands who built it. His mind who created it. His intelligent clear head that connected one point with another."_

 _"This is not insanity. A costume does not create insanity. A costume is merely an outfit similar to an outfit we all wear to work. Do not doctors and nurses put on scrubs? Do not police officers put on their blue uniform? It is understandable that even a criminal career professional in our town has their own outfit for work. Thus it is not the outfit that determines insanity, but their mind."_

Even with the tired appearance, she had smoothly delivered witness testimony and closing argument that left many nodding their heads. Yet this was Gotham. There was only one result in Gotham. Guilty but criminally insane. She looked stern and ready to take the results. Her smaller lips in a straight line as she waited.

All the jury sat in their chairs and everyone in the room followed suit. The judge looked to the jury. "Have you come to a decision?"

One of the jurors stood and nodded, "We have your honor."

The judge nodded and the bailiff took the paper from the juror who brought it to the judge. The judge read over it and then handed it back to the bailiff who returned it to the juror.

The judge then looked to the defendant. "Defense, please stand while the jury reads the verdict."

Everyone looked towards the defense table, and there stood Edward Nigma, aka. The Riddler. He lacked his green suit being forced to wear a black one in court, still expensive and custom made. No matter how many bank accounts the GCPD and the FBI froze, Edward Nigma always found access to his finances and made use of it even from a cell. His three expensive defense attorney showed another evidence of that fact. This wasn't the first time Edward had been to court, and it likely would not be the last. Like most of the criminals Gotham deemed in the rogue gallery, he treated these very criminal proceedings as a mere waste of time until the end result of Arkham. Mr. Nigma almost appeared inpatient as he stood, and arrogance still evident as he waited, as the court waited.

The judge turned to the jury box. "What is your verdict?"

The head juror opened the white paper and coughed to settle their voice. "We find the defendant guilty," the juror stated.

The entire courtroom stayed silent as if expecting a mention of "but criminally insane". Yet as the courtroom waited, the juror only waited as well.

"What?" Mr. Nigma bit out and turned to his lawyer who tried to silence him. Whispers started to fill the crowd and reporters started to take notes.

The judge hit the gavel down. "Quiet. Quiet in the courtroom," the judge demanded and the courtroom silenced again. Mr. Nigma's eyes were sharp and glaring as the judge continued, "Do you have a sentence?"

The juror shifted. "Yes, your honor," the juror paused and looked towards Edward Nigma. While the juror had at first appeared nervous, a sense of confidence seemed to flood them. The entire jury box actually looked equally resolved with what was about to be said. All focused on the defendant that had terrorized their city for close to a decade. "We sentence the defendant to death."

"WHAT!" Mr. Nigma shouted with the result slamming his fist into the table. The room went into chaos. Press quickly tried to leave to get outside to tell their other reporters of what had happened and potentially get interviews with the first ADA to successfully gain a death penalty against one of the notorious rogues. Victims' families burst into tears of happiness, hugging one another and thanking Ms. Evans.

"This is absurd! Do you know who I am?! I'm the god damn Riddler! You want to sentence me to death! I can have you all killed!" Mr. Nigma shouted as the bailiffs grabbed the man to control him. The judge kept shouting order as he slammed the gavel down. Though the courtroom was still out of control until Mr. Nigma was dragged out, screaming and shouting in handcuffs. Once he was gone, the judge sighed and turned to the jury. "You are free to leave. The criminal proceeding on Edward Nigma are officially closed." He banged the gavel once more and the headlines across newspapers and mainstream news read:

The Riddler Sentenced to Death!


	2. The Riddle

She placed the Gotham Gazette on the kitchen counter as she stepped out of her heels. Her eyes briefly glanced at the headline. **The Riddler escaped Blackgate!**

"Bruce, you do not need to worry," she said into her cell phone as she went into the kitchen and opened the cupboard to grab a wineglass. It had been three weeks since the end of the trial. The trial had skyrocketed her name into the spotlight and inundated her with phone calls and emails. She didn't mind the attention to some extent, but she also needed at least one day a week to longue in sweats on the couch binging the latest Netflix series. Unfortunately, for the past few weeks she had become so busy she was basically running on fumes. It also did not help that she lacked the patience or grace to withstand small talk. Often in interviews, she found herself mentioning an offhand awkward comment only to lead to a strange silence before attempt of laughter by the reporters. She suggested to District Attorney Charles Koch that he or the Mayor interview in her stead, but it was quickly dismissed. The DA office wanted to show off their rising star.

"You need to be careful, Marylou. The man is unstable and will likely be coming after you," Bruce stated. She had met Bruce at a Police Gala earlier this year. While rumors around the city suggested she was dating the bachelor, they were false. Bruce had shown an interest in her determination to address Arkham's revolving door issue that plagued Gotham. He had disagreed with her over the use of the death penalty, yet the discussion brought together an initiative to find ways to solve the problem. Admittedly, Marylou had been rather surprised by his interest in the topic since she only knew the man as the playboy bachelor hopping from one late night affair to the next. Yet somehow even with Bruce's extravagant lifestyle they have formed a tentative friendship.

"The GCPD is aware. I am certain they will capture him before he makes his way to my doorstep. Besides Bruce, it sends the wrong message to Gotham if I go into hiding. The last thing I want after all the work that has been put in is to show Gotham that we can still be pushed around by a few criminals. We're stronger than that," she remarked as she went into her fridge and pulled out cheap Rose.

She heard a sigh on the other end. "I understand. Be safe," he said once more. "I'll check in later," he stated and with that the call ended.

She found it all to be a tad overdramatic. Since the news had come out, her mother had texted her twenty three time, her father had a stern talk about safety, and her friends and coworkers had all expressed concern. Yes, there was a part of her nervous about his escape, but she only needed to rationalize to place everything in perspective. First, she was not the only one responsible for the conviction. There were many potential targets that currently had protection by the GCPD. Second, her neighborhood already had a police squad car on the corner. Third, the Riddler did not even know where she lived. Fourth, she had a front deskman, decent security, and bars on her windows. Fifth, she truly was not important enough for the Riddler to care about. The man was so eccentric and ego-centered, she doubted he would waste time on an ADA. Sixth, even if he did find her, she could handle him. The Riddler was only a man after all. At least these were the reasons she told herself that she had nothing to fear.

She uncorked the wine bottle and poured her glass to the brim. The one benefit of this was that she now actually had a night at home to relax and watch movies with her cat. Speaking of, she wondered where Baloo had gone too. Normally the chubby grey cat would saunter on out from his hiding place when she first arrived. She took a large gulp of her wine as she glanced around the floor and put the wine bottle back in the fridge. Her apartment was a tad small. A government salary allowed one to live comfortably, but not nicely. The kitchen had a peninsula counter that separated the kitchen from the living and dining area. Her bedroom and bathroom connected to the area by two doors. One could almost look at the entire apartment basically from the kitchen.

"Baloo?" she called out and went to the wall to turn on the living area lights. She took another sip as she clicked them on and then turned to see if she saw the little munchkin running about. Her heart nearly jumped in her chest, and she almost choked on the wine as she swallowed down the wrong pipe. She coughed and caught her breath.

"Don't mind me. After all, I can't push you around," he said sarcastically as he petted Baloo who was curled in his lap, practically purring. Edward Nigma. He sat in her chair in his classic green suit, looking rather annoyed by the whole situation.

She did not know how to react at first, for a moment considering it a hallucination before a slow steady panic started settle in her gut. "Mr. Nigma. I…do not believe I invited you in," she answered and shifted to the counter, placing her wine down. His presence here certainly was not good and left her few options to address it. She had her registered firearm in the drawer in the kitchen and her phone on the counter. She could either call for 911 or get her gun, or better yet….both.

"Ah yes, rather rude of you," he remarked and tilted his head as he watched her carefully with his deep brown eyes. He leaned one of his elbows on the armrest of the chair, leaning his chin on top of his hand as he observed, still petting her cat with his free one. "I am actually rather insulted, Ms. Evans. You hear of my escape, and you take little to no initiative to prevent my arrival. It took me less than two minutes to enter your home. It actually left me rather bored for the past two hours waiting for you to arrive because for some reason I thought you might have made this more difficult," he stated directly to the point.

The panic only settled deeper in her stomach as the reality set in around her. She kept her breathing steady as she moved her own hands by her sides. She needed to keep him talking if she hoped to make it out of this situation. Preparing for trial, she had learned droves of information about this man. She had read every paper, study, and report on him. She had read through transcripts of past trials, even trials where he had represented himself. She interviewed witness after witness. She had spoken even with him on multiple occasions. Yet this was different. This was different from the courtroom, the cell, and even the first time she had ever spoken with him. This time he was angry, angry specifically with her. She had to keep him talking. "I apologize. I never thought someone as important as you would be interested in myself," she answered, and while yes, it was to feed his ego, there was also truth in that statement. She slowly opened the drawer quietly.

Edward scoffed with that answer, and gently shooed off Baloo. "Why yes, it is plainly apparent you lack my intellectual capabilities, but that is absurd. You're the fool that managed to sentence me to death," he lingered on the word for emphasis, "so I might be a tad interested in your whereabouts. Why would I not?" He finally stood up from the seat.

"Well you did say, and I quote, you are not important enough for me or anyone else to be interested in you," she stated flatly and then grabbed the gun from the cabinet pointing it directly at his chest. "Get out of my home, Mr. Nigma." Her green eyes turning serious as the gun removed some of her panic.

Edward's brows contorted into confusion with the statement. He seemed rather unimpressed by the appearance of a weapon. He continued through the living area and towards the kitchen, towards her. She kept the gun trained on him, her finger on the trigger as he moved. Edward shook his head as he seemed to be trying to recall. "I never said that. If anything, I was rather pleasant the entire trial. My attorneys were even impressed that I managed to make it to the end without insulting your incompetence," he remarked.

Marylou kept the gun trained. A new twist or feeling similar to panic, but more like embarrassment for letting it slip. She had managed the entire trial to appear neutral to the man in front of her, but admittedly, out of the entire rogue gallery, she hated him the most and yet…respected him in a way she had never been able to explain. "December 6, 2007. Wayne Enterprise Christmas Party," she responded.

She watched as his paused in his movements. His eyes seemed to be scanning through his own mind as if memories were filed away in perfect order, waiting to be pulled out for review. His purple gloved hand moved to his chin as he thought over the date. It was a date before Edward Nigma was the Riddler. Then he was only Edward Nigma, Senior Executive Vice President and Advisor to CEO Philip Kane. His eyes finally settled, and his lips made an oh expression as if he had found the particular file he had been looking for. He then smirked and looked at her, "You've lost quite a bit of weight, dear."

She couldn't even control herself, she pulled the trigger right there.

Click. Click. Click.

She looked at the gun quickly in a slight panic and tried pulling the trigger again, except nothing fired.

Edward's smirk widened. "Oh, I emptied the chamber when I arrived. The hinderance of having to register your firearm is that its quite easy for me to find out online that you own one," he stated and then with his finger gently pushed down the barrel of the gun, so it was facing the ground. "Now Ms. Evans, you can either come with me willing or I can drag you out of here. It is your choice. Either way, you are coming with me," he answered.

Her jaw locked as the walls seemed to be closing in on her. It was infuriating to be placed in such a position. She should have listened to their warnings, yet her own pride had brought her here. Even as her heart practically pounded in her chest with panic, the anger continued to grow. Fight or flight, they say. She knew once she left with him, she would likely be drugged and wake up in a crazy contraption should would either die in or lose a limb. She certainly would not be bending over and taking it. Her response was simple. She took grip on the gun and swung it, backhanding him in the face with the metal object before reaching for her phone and stumbling to swipe the emergency and press 911.

She heard him cursing. "You fucking bitch," he bit out and then whistled, and her bathroom door opened. She quickly pressed call on the phone as she yelped in surprised at the large man in the bathroom door. "Allen, grab her. It's time for us to go," Edward muttered as he went to the freezer to grab an ice pack.

Marylou heard the phone ringing and immediately tried to run by the two men. When the operator picked up, she immediately started shouting into the phone. "The Riddler is here in my apartment! 567 Brushcreek…" she yelped as she was grabbed and yanked into the air by the large man, causing her to drop her phone. She struggled in his grip and tried to punch at him. "Put me down!" she shouted.

Edward pressed the icepack to his face that would likely now be swollen. "God damn it, Allen. Control her," Edward bit out as he moved towards them. He pulled out a fabric from his coat with his free hand then pressed it against her face as she struggled and pushed and tried to wiggle out of the events. She was in a panic. She was going to die. She was going to die because of this arrogant asshole and her own fucking pride. She noticed the smell and was breathing it in before she could even stop herself. Everything got hazy and then went dark.

* * *

To say Edward was furious would be an understatement. The past few weeks had certainly brought an awakening. He had thought this city, his city, appreciated him. For it was Edward who controlled it. The Joker might play games of explosives, the Penguin might balance the upper East Side with the Black Market, and the Scarecrow might rule over the homeless, but it was Edward, the Riddler, who controlled the most valuable prize in Gotham. Information. Edward had the information. Information about politicians, business leaders, dirty cops. Information about stocks, finances, and hidden exchanges. Information on everything because all that happened in this city, from someone dropping a penny on 9th Street to a high executive sleeping with a prostitute after blow, Edward saw it. He saw all of it. He had access to every single camera in this city, including each and every camera and microphone on everyone's phones. He controlled it! He controlled the heart of Gotham City! Didn't the people of Gotham know this!

Apparently not.

Apparently some cheeky woman could waltz into court her hair a mess and her make up half done and proclaim to the jury that he deserved to die. With that, the entire city of Gotham had fallen in love with her!

Even when he was transferred to Blackgate he had kept his eye on the news. He saw the interviews and how reporters practically swooned over her for accomplishing what some proclaimed impossible. Even after her awful jokes like "Only in Gotham can cat women be popular…do you get it? Cat women like cat lady, but also Catwoman," and the awkward silences that followed, the press still adored her. He didn't understand it. It made absolutely no fucking sense at all.

Marylou Evans. He had done his research. She had moved to Gotham with her parents when she was barely five. She grew up in the city and lived a fairly average life, so average Edward had almost fallen asleep when reviewing it. Her dad was a small business owner. Her mom stayed at home. She had one brother. They lived in a middle class house went to an average school. She received average grades and got into Gotham University where she performed average to the rest of her class. She managed to secure a sectorial type job at Wayne Enterprises for a couple years and rent an apartment with a roommate. The only out of place item in her boring average life was when she randomly and miraculously with her grades got accepted into Yale Law School where she managed to be top of her class. Even stranger how she managed to secure a position at LexCorp and eventually arise as Lex Luthor's Senior Counsel. It was not until last year had she even moved back to Gotham, and yet her name was already splashed through the paper. He didn't get it. He did not understand how such a basic woman could draw such attention, and more importantly make his Gotham turn its back on him!

He still held a bag of ice against his cheek as he looked over the multiple camera screens laid out on his desk. He sat in his comfortable chair, looking over each piece of his puzzle. It had not taken him long to put together this puzzle. When thrown into his cell in Blackgate, he set to work, plotting his revenge and reminder to the city. Escape had been simple. The Blackgate employees had never dealt with someone of his caliber before, and it became painfully apparent as their security system was easily overrode. To be honest, he would have been thankful to Marylou for sending him to Blackgate. After all, it would have taken him two months longer to break out from Arkham. But that wasn't the point. It was the principle of the matter.

He used his keyboard to adjust and turn the cameras as he looked over each aspect, waiting patiently for Ms. Marylou Evans to wake up. You cannot start a game without the main contestant. He would prove to Gotham City that this woman was no one to admire. He had sent the Batman and GCPD on a wild goose chase, which would give him a solid five hours. He noticed her moving and then cracked his jaw, wincing with the pain. "Stupid bitch," he muttered under his breath to the pain and removed the ice to adjust his mask and bowler cap. The riddle was about to start.

She felt a grogginess that seemed to weigh down her entire form as if drudging through the swamps. She groaned as she curled into a ball for a moment. She felt like she had taken a half bottle of ZzzQuil to knock her out for the night and the effects were still lingering.

"Good morning, Ms. Evans," a familiar sing song voice echoed around her.

She tensed in recognition and then remembered what had happened. God, she hated this man. She groaned again for a moment longer not wanting to face the reality around her. She then slowly opened her eyes to a dark room with flashes of green. The ground she was on was cement, and for a brief moment she was just thankful not see blood. Her mind still felt fogged, but she placed her hands on the ground and slowly pushed herself up. She stabilized herself and looked around the room. The most noticeable part was the large projection of the Riddler on the wall. He had an arrogant smirk on his face that rubbed her the wrong way in this position. She knew better than to push her luck, but she had never been a morning person. "You're not looking your best, Mr. Nigma. You might still need ice," she said flatly and tapped her own cheek to make her point.

The response caused the large projecting image of the Riddler to purse his lips in annoyance. "It's the Riddler, and you would be wise to remember my dear," he bit out and then pressed a button. A swoosh sound echoed in the room causing her heart to jump in her chest as she jerked around to see where it came from. The wooden paneling covering one of the walls had dropped to reveal a floor length full wall window into the next room. There were twelve people, handcuffed and chained to particular deadly object. One had a nose around his neck, another was trapped in a chair with a needle threatening to enter her arm, another trapped to what appeared to be electrocution. Each one trapped in a device used in the past for those given the death penalty. They were gagged, yet when they saw her, they each started to scream louder for help. She knew each one of them. Her breathing became heavier and caught in her throat at the realization that it was the jury from the trial. This was actually happening. This was actually happening, and she was here, and they were there. People were actually going to die. Her breathing escalated. Her hand grabbed her chest as if trying to force her lungs and heart to comply and calm down. "Ed…Riddler…let them go," she said, "I'll play you game, but let them go." Her voice was shaking. Her eyes turning wet.

The Riddler dramatically tapped his own chin. "Hmmmmmmmmm….no. These people are want-to-be-murders. Each one had no qualms sentencing me to death for that reason, I hold no qualms sentencing them to death. However, even I can be merciful. I do love this city," he said with a smirk and leaned back in his chair, rolling the remote in his fingers as he looked over the woman slowly breaking in front of him.

Marylou turned and looked at the screen. She tried to keep her expression calm. Her hand had turned into a fist at her side, practically forcing herself to get a grip. She would not survive if she didn't calm down. Her eyes were definitely wet and her breathing still rushed, but she nodded with understanding. "What do you want, Riddler?"

Edward smirked and folded his arms out as if putting himself on display. "Why it's so simple. I only want you to answer my riddles. If you answer one correctly, I'll let the juror go. If you answer it wrong, well the results are fairly obvious. Basically, you will be my witness in this trial for their lives. Do you understand, dear?" For a moment, Edward looked completely serious, almost bitter with the last statement. It quickly changed to a smile as she nodded.

"Yes, I understand," she answered and shifted.

Edward chuckled. "Good, let's get started. Riddle me this, what three letters change a girl into a woman?" he asked as he leaned towards the screen.

Marylou still felt a tad delusional that this was actually happening. She dug her nails into the palm of her hand, using the pain to keep her focus and out of panic. What three letters…she glanced up at the screen. Edward was reeking in arrogance, but Marylou knew this about him. He was always arrogant, arrogant enough to give a simple riddle expecting her to be too stupid to solve it. This would be his easiest. She took a deep breath and then met his eyes on the screen. "A. G. E." she answered, almost holding her breath afterwards.

The smile on Edward's face halted and then slipped off altogether. He huffed. "Lucky guess to one of my easiest riddles." He pressed a button and the juror on the far right contraption started to move. A door slide open and the entire contraption with the juror moved through it until the door shut. "One is free to go. You have eleven left. Riddle me this, as a whole, I am both safe and secure. Behead me, and I become a place of meeting. Behead me again, I am the partner of ready. Restore me, and I become the domain of beasts. What am I?"

Marylou released the breath she hadn't realized she had been holding. She watched in panic as the man started to move, but when the contraption left, she calmed. The Riddler was many things and stretched the truth to a far extent. It left her nervous, yet she knew the man was not a liar. Lie by omission certainly, but he had never outright lied. Many scholars had pointed out that fact, and for that reasons, she felt like the juror was likely safe…or safer. Then again, there was very little she could do from here. She focused on the next question. His expression was unbearable, still arrogant. She closed her eyes and focused on the riddle. Safe and secure. A place for meeting. Partner of ready. Domain of beast. The first and third part had to do with emotions while the other two places. She bit her lip to stay focus, keeping her breathing even. She finally opened her eyes again. "Stable," she answered.

Edward found the whole affair rather humorous. She obviously had already lost if she was standing their looking constipated. "You're…" he paused, realizing it was the correct answer. The smile left again, irritated and annoyed. "right." He clicked the button and another juror left the room.

She breathed a sigh of relief. She truly wasn't very good at riddles. Thankfully, she had spent the past couple months working on riddle books for the trial. She had been concerned that when speaking with the Riddler during plea deals and negotiations the man would list off riddles, and she had wanted to be prepared. Everything happens for a reasons, she repeated her mothers words to herself as she reached back to her chest, touching a place right above her heart and below her neck. She knew better than to show the hidden object to the Riddler, but it gave her a brief moment of support in this absolutely awful situation.

Edward looked irritated, especially as Marylou looked as if she had centered herself. This was not how this was supposed to go! She was supposed to fall apart, break down, admit defeat, beg for mercy, and admit that she had no business being in Gotham, challenging him! Admit that she wasn't worth his time and apologize to him for wasting it! "Luck! Pure luck, but the game only gets harder!" he smirked and pressed a different button, gas started to spill into the room.

Her eyes widened as the gas spilled. "What is this? You never mentioned this?" she said, trying to keep her voice even as she stayed in the center.

"You can't think I would make it that easy, dear," he said with a sly smile. "Dr. Crane provided me his latest toxin in return for showing him the results. Now next question, of no use to one yet absolute bliss to two. The small boy gets it for nothing. The young man has to lie for it. The old man has to buy it. The baby's right, the lover's privilege, the hypocrite's mask. To the young girl, faith; To the married woman, hope; To the old maid, charity. What am I?" he asked as the toxin slowly crept into the room.

She knew this game would be impossible to win. That was how the Riddler worked. He leaned on one side of the scale until the results went to his favor. She could at least save one more person. She closed her eyes again and fisted her hand in thought. This one sounded familiar as if she had heard before. She had heard it before. She had heard Edward give it to the young reporter Summer Gleason and then tap his fingers to his own lips with a smirk. She laughed partially herself as she realized what the answer was and opened her eyes to see the screen again. "Kiss," she answered. This man. For being a narcissist sociopath, he was also a flirt that had apparently slept with a large portion of women in the city, and if you listen to some rumors, apparently men as well.

Edward's frown deepened with the correct answer. It irked him when he heard her laugh. He couldn't place the reason. In whole, this Marylou Evans agitated him. It was like being given a piece of a puzzle and unable to fit it anywhere in the entire puzzle, no matter how you turned it, adjusted, and at times squeezed, it didn't fit. It especially bothered him because he found women rather easy to figure out. A few sweet words, a gentle touch, and a suggestions of danger, women often melted in his hand. It certainly helped that Edward was an excellent cook, offering a home cook meal with light music often lead to night activities. He pressed the button and another juror was removed. "I have to admit, you are doing far better than I expected," he commented as the gas continued to fill the room.

"You are as predictable as I thought," she commented softly as she stared in the center, glancing at the gas. "Are you going to ask the next riddle or are you waiting for me to inhale the toxin?" she asked flatly.

"What did you say?" he snapped, his hand squeezing into a fist with what he thought he heard.

"Are you going to ask the next…"

"No, before that," he bit out.

She paused and then her own lips barely turned into a smirk. There truly was very little she could do at this point. Soon she would be facing her greatest fear and would have no concept of reality. Everyone here would potentially die, and she likely would to. While that thought created an inward panic, she knew it was going to be out of her hands shortly. Since it was out of her hands, she would leave Edward Nigma, the Riddler, with some parting wisdom. "I said you are as predictable as I thought. Predictability is rather dull," she chuckled to herself as the toxin finally reached her. She didn't even hold her breath. She breathed it in as she watched the image of a red face Riddler, standing in his chair, throwing his hat down and pointing at her. He was screaming something, shouting in rage with her accusation, and the image, oh she treasured it almost as much as the image of the day he received the verdict. The Riddler had no idea what he had created.

* * *

She put on bright red lip stick to match her bright red shoes and puckered them out in the mirror. She smiled to herself as she looked in the mirror. She did a little spin and looked over the green dress. It was tight, but it showed off her curves and her bust. It was a larger size. She had gain quite a bit of extra weight in college, not that she ever checked on the scale. When she looked into the mirror, she thought she still looked pretty. Yes, there was a slight double chin when she smiled, but she could avoid it by taking pictures at a certain angle. She looked good, even with the weight. She placed a Santa hat on top of her brown hair and smiled again at the image. She looked like one of Santa's elves and ready for the Wayne Enterprises Annual Christmas Party.

She arrived to the party at Wayne Enterprise, multiple floors open for only the Christmas Party with multiple bars and buffets, filled with music, chatting, and even Santa Claus. The first hour was rather uneventful, Marylou sipped on wine as she chatted with friends and co-workers. She had been with Wayne Enterprise for almost two years. She hated her job. She basically managed the calendar for Philip Kane. Mr. Kane was nice, and she had formed a close relationship with the man since he had taken the position of CEO. Yet she still disliked it. It wasn't hard, but it was boring. She found herself with hours of free time, wanting something more out of a career and had been contemplating ways to grow. It also did not help that people in the Corporation held little respect for the secretaries. She saw the way people looked at her and other secretaries, and it was a look that bothered her. They saw her as a gatekeeper with nothing more to offer.

There was one person, however, who always gave her a friendly smile and brought an extra bounce to her step when he walked by her desk to speak with Mr. Kane.

Edward Nigma. He was only four years older than her yet had managed to climb to the top of the corporate ladder. He was considered a genius to many and a close advisor to Mr. Kane. To her, he was the nice gentleman that would share a smile with her almost every day. She had developed a crush on him and tonight, she wanted to take a chance and pursue it. Her mother and friends had flatly rejected the idea, telling her that if he was interested, he would pursue her. However, as far as Marylou was concerned, it was the 21st Century, if a woman wanted to pursue a man, she could…with a little liquid courage.

She caught sight Edward talking with another gentleman she didn't recognize. The nerves started up, so she quickly finished off her wine and grabbed another glass, not noticing how Edward was whispering harshly to the other man who appeared to be nodding in obedience or the exchange of cash that occurred. She was looking at her now filled drink. Marylou, you can do this. She talked herself up and took another sip, followed by a deep breath. With new resolve, she ventured over to Edward. He looked handsome as always, fitted suit, green tie.

She walked towards him as the other gentleman placed something inside his pocket and then left towards the door. Edward looked serious until he caught sight of her out of his peripherals. He smiled to her, with the smile that made her heart flutter. "Hello," he nodded to her.

"Hello Edward, how are you? I did not mean to interrupt," she said, noting the man leaving.

"No, no. He was already on his way out," he answered and turned more to face her. He was a few inches taller than her, yet seemed even taller when she stood near him. He did not seem nervous, if anything he looked rather in his element. "I am fine," he added, "How are you?"

She was starting to feel awkward. She saw him every day, yet she did not get to speak with him often. She shifted her weight. "I am fine. Happy its almost Christmas. You know, work can be work," she said, not even realizing quite what she was saying. She closed her eyes for a moment to ensure her resolve. "Actually, I have question, Edward," she stated.

Edward's brown eyes looked over her with a tad of confusion with the string of sentences. However, at the mention of a question, his brow perked in curiosity. "I do enjoy questions," he asked with a smirk.

Marylou met his eyes and that smirk that made her melt. "I was wondering if you would go on a date with me this weekend?" she asked and waited, her heart practically running in her chest. It wasn't like she thought they would run off and have a happy ending. She did not know much about him yet. She only knew he was kind to her when he visited the office, and she wanted to get to know him more. Isn't that the purpose of a date? To get to know someone.

Edward laughed, "You're not serious?"

The response left her sinking. She stood there awkwardly and then nodded, feeling committed and unable to play it off like a joke. "I am," she answered to the point. She looked up at the nice man, expecting him to stop laughing when he realized it was a serious request.

Instead Edward laughed more. "Wow, sweetie. We need to have a talk," he placed a hand on her shoulder and leaned lower as if trying to teach her a lesson. "While I admire your confidence to come up to me of all people, you need to have a self-reality check. I am very much out of your league." He smirked and glanced down at her as if judging her entire appearance in one full swoop. It stung. It stung, and it didn't stop. "Actually most men in this building are and likely most in the city. While some rare unattractive and fat women have managed secure men out of their league, it is usually because they offered something more than their appearance. They offered their wit, charm, or work ethic. Darling, you don't have any of those. You're a secretary and likely will be secretary forty years from now, managing someone else's life who has a more important life than you. Now an attractive secretary could snag the hot executive because both realize that her only purpose would be to bare that executive's children and continue strong genes. What do you offer?" He asked as his free open hand pointed at the rest of her body before going back to his side. His brown eyes met her green. "Basically, you are not important enough for me or anyone else to be interested in you. To be honest, I don't even remember your name."

He then smiled and gave her shoulder a squeeze. "Good talk. I hope that helps. I hear Fred, the security guard downstairs, is single," he stated before letting go of her and walking to the bar to grab a drink.

Her entire form stood stiff during the encounter of words. Even as he left and she heard the footsteps further away, she stood there unable to move. It started slowly as the words started to sink in, her mind repeating the interaction. Her hand holding her wine glass started to shake and her face contorted into an ugly expression as she tried to withhold the dam from breaking. Each second left a crack, and she lost control. Large tears flooded down her face as she started to cry. She quickly headed to the closet bathroom as the dam of emotions broke and flooded over her. She dropped her glass into the trash as she rushed by and went in, grabbing the first stall. She took a seat on top of the toilet and buried her face into her hands, crying into them.

She never expected words to hurt so badly. Why would anyone say such cruel things to another person? She had thought Edward was a nice person. She had thought…she had thought that he was at least a gentleman. She had dealt with rejection before, but she had never dealt with it to this extent. She felt embarrassed for even asking, for even thinking for a moment that Edward was a decent person.

Even worse, she felt shame. She felt shame because in her heart, she knew he was right. For many years, she had become complacent. Complacent with the system, her job, her life. Her diet included pizza and soda and her attitude towards work was the bare minimum. She had been in a downward spiral too lost in her own denial to notice the countless nights that she had wasted on the couch doing nothing.

She felt worthless. A feeling she had never associated with herself before, and a feeling she already hated. Worthlessness.

How had she managed to get here? Her father told her she could do anything if she set her mind to it. She could do anything, and yet here she sat in a bathroom, soaking her hands. The feeling only grew, suffocating her. She had large dreams when she was small. She had wanted to become the first female President.

There were people younger than her who had already accomplished so much, and what was she doing? She had done nothing. She was worthless.

Completely worthless. She felt like she couldn't breath and the stall walls around her seemed to be closing in as the room grew darker and the sinking feeling pulled her deeper. She gripped at her throat as if struggling for air. Her eyes jolted up, with tears still streaming down her face. She looked around still seeing darkness. She struggled up, trying to move while her throat only closed. She looked around and saw people. She reached out and stumbled towards them. She tried to scream for help.

"Did you hear that?" one asked.

"I didn't hear anything," another said.

She struggled more as she tried to reach out to them, tried to get them to notice her. Her mouth open screaming that she was here. The weight of the world pressed down on her.

"Whatever it is. It doesn't matter," another remarked.

Her entire form collapsed on the dark ground. She didn't matter. The world thought her as worthless as she felt at that moment. She shook on the ground as it all swam around her, pushing her lower and lower into the dark.

You can do anything you set your mind to, bug.

She thought she felt her father poke her on the nose as she heard his familiar saying, and it brought stability in the chaotic world.

She could do anything. She only needed to set her mind to it. It was her actions that brought her here, and it was her actions that could get her out. If she stayed here, she would be worthless, and she wasn't. She could do anything she wanted. She would change. She would pursue her dreams and prove to the world the type of person she was. She would prove to everyone how important she was meant to be. She would never feel worthless again. She would show Edward Nigma and make him swallow his own words.

"I do," she said softly as the air became easier to breath.

"Did you hear that?" a voice continued.

"I do. I do matter," she said sternly and stood. She grabbed the person only to find herself in darkness again. She felt the feeling trying to linger back in, attempting to push her down, but she wouldn't let it. Her eyes sharped. "I do matter. I will prove to you that I do. I will make everyone see that what I do affects them. They will see what I see. I will make them. I do matter! Do you hear me! I do matter!" she shouted into the darkness that only grew darker and then a flash of light appeared, blinding her.

She blinked as her eyes adjusted to the green light. She was lying in a curled ball as she heard noise around her and glass breaking. She tensed with the quick movement. Her heart rate and breathing still accelerating even though her mind seemed calm. It was as if her body was terrified yet her mind had moved forward. Sounds of Christmas music would go on and go off in her ears, and the green walls would change to Christmas lights and then back to green with each second. It was like being trapped in a horror Christmas movie. A grip came around her throat, and she was dragged up, completely clueless to what was happening. Her mind attempting to catch up.

* * *

Edward threw down his hat as this nobody laughed at him. "Predictable! You think I am predictable! If I was predictable, you wouldn't be here failing in your own incompetency!" he shouted at her and pointed at the screen. He wanted to crush this woman. He had never met someone so infuriating idiotic yet equally confident. How could she have any confidence?! Had she seen herself!

He thought back to that date she mentioned earlier tonight. Edward had a photographic memory and could retain information with ease. It wasn't difficult to recall the date. He had finished off a deal with the Red Hood Gang that evening when this girl came towards him. He recognized her as the girl who sat outside Philip Kane's office. He never thought much about. Why would he? He had larger items to focus his attention on. Yet it seemed the girl had her sights on him and made it apparent with her request. He found the whole thing hilarious. Why would this girl think she had a chance with him? It wasn't that she was ugly. She did have large green eyes, and he always liked the color green. Her features overall were cute in a way, but she looked like she had ate two of herself.

They could call Edward shallow all they like, appearances matter. Your appearance is the first thing a person judges you on, and even with the crazy feminist and anti-body shamers flooding social media, the fact doesn't change that everyone judges. You can't force someone to think good thoughts of you. You might be able to prevent them from saying their thoughts aloud through campaigns, but at the end of the day, they are still thinking it. Your clothing, your hair, your makeup, tattoos, it all portrays a message and each person reads that message a certain way. If someone wanted Edward to respect them, then they needed to show that they respected themselves first by actually taking effort to take care of themselves.

Yet this girl was interesting. For someone who appeared to be eating their feelings, she certainly felt confident enough to approach him. He thought it was a joke until it became apparent that she must be flat out delusional. As far as Edward was concern, he was doing her a favor. There was no reason for him to continue the delusion. It was best for her to learn her place, and it was far beneath him.

His eyes turned back to the screen as he finally sat back down in his chair. He looked over the woman that was slowly crumbling in on herself, weeping. He never considered his words to have the opposite effect. It appeared she was even more delusional then before! He folded his arms over his chest as he looked over her dirty appearance in her disheveled maroon dress. Admittedly, she had lost a lot of weight. She would never be the size of the some of the models Edward acquainted himself with. Her body structure related more to a Christina Hendricks than a Marion Cotillard. And even he had to acknowledge that Marylou had a certain beauty about her, especially in this current position. The way her dress clung to her form and slid off one shoulder from the earlier shuffling. The way her hair tie had come undone causing her thick brown hair to spread out and frame her face. Even the make up smearing down her cheeks. She had turned from a chubby ugly duckling into a swan these past ten years.

Nonetheless, she was still beneath him! It did not matter that she had turned her life around and actually formed a successful career. It did not matter that she had gotten in shape. None of it matter! She was beneath him and had no right to challenge him in his city! She was obviously still delusional, so Edward would teach her once again where reality stood.

He scowled as he watched her crumple into a ball on the ground. He was regretting using the toxin now. Not that she didn't deserve to face her fear, but now she was completely unable to answer questions. It seemed rather inadequate to ask questions to a blubbering mess who couldn't appreciate his intelligence. He could give her the cure but that seemed rather silly as well.

He wasn't given much more time to contemplate it before he saw a Bat swooping down outside their building location and flashing red and blue lights drawing closer. He immediately stood and looked at the camera in outright confusion. "What!? They shouldn't be here!" he shouted before quickly gathering his items off the desk. The Riddle had only been occurring for twenty-two minutes. Batman was not scheduled to arrive until 5 hours into it. It was too early! He shouldn't be here. He texted his men and took the remote. He glanced at the screen to see Batman catapulting off screen and into another screen that showed the roof. Edward bolted out of the office. This couldn't be possible! He wasn't finished!

He ran through a staircase and into a secret area. He quickly entered a code and unlocked a door. He could have made a run to the exist and escaped in time, but he needed to get her. He couldn't have Batman ruining this for him. Not yet. He ran into his riddle, avoiding the hidden traps.

"I do matter! I'll prove to you that I do!" he heard her shout as he came upon her collapse form. His brows furrowed at the action. The response was not what he would expect from someone under Jonathan's toxin. It was a response of someone fighting it, and Edward only knew of two people to ever accomplish that. Himself and Batman. It must have been a weaker dose.

He got on his knees and pushed her flat. This had to be her fault. She had to have cheated somehow. It was the only explanation. He saw a silver chain on her neck and remembered her constantly touching her chest. He had thought it was a nervous tick out of fear. He ripped the necklace off, brining it up. He saw a cross hanging from the silver chain. He would have bawked at the religious symbol if he hadn't noticed the clicking. He quickly brought the cross closer and cursed when he saw the tracker. He threw it on the ground. She must have turned it on when she first woke. He growled and grabbed her by the neck, jerking her up just as Batman whooshed down in front of him avoiding one of the flying knives.

"Batman!" Edward greeted him, holding out a remote for him to see and keeping a hold of Marylou with his other, "I wouldn't move any further or I'll let go of this button and everyone in the next room dies." He nodded towards the glass wall, showing the Batman the nine people still in death contraptions.

Batman growled and stood in place. "Nigma, release them. You cannot blame them for the faults in the justice system," he stated.

Edward laughed. "Oh that's where you're wrong, Batman, I can. However, I am willing to release the nine in there, but the Assistant District Attorney will be coming with me," he stated and slowly moved away from the Batman and towards the door.

"I won't let that happen," Batman stated and took a step forward.

Edward threatened to drop the remote. "It's your choice, Batman! Her or them."

Batman growled but stood in his place. "You will not get away with this Nigma. The police are on there way. We will capture you," he stated.

Edward started jerking Marylou with him towards the door. His arm still wrapped around her neck. He smirked with his response. "You certainly can try. I'll enjoy watching you fail," he said and then quickly moved up the stairs.

Marylou didn't understand what was happening. She saw a dark creature and felt another force around her neck. Each jerk made her tense. However, she was thankful to be away from the outright darkness. It still lingered on the edge, waiting to consume her again. She followed the jerk and grabbed at her neck, wanting it to stop. The dark figure disappeared as Christmas lights returned with the music. She had experienced a bad trip on drugs before, but this was something else entirely. She grunted as she was pushed into something soft and tried to get a grip of it all. She shifted in the chill of the air. The jerk on her neck had stopped only to be filled with cold. She shivered and looked around still not seeing anything clearly. She felt overwhelmed and tired. She wanted warmth, and with the thought warmth appeared next to her. She leaned into it quickly, practically curling against it as she shuddered again. She closed her eyes. She wanted to go home. She just wanted to go home. She thought as the exhaustion and sleep took hold of her.

Edward's form went stiff as he got into the car and Marylou automatically grabbed at him. He almost instinctively pushed her off, but instead he stayed as stiff as a log. He glanced down at her as her head leaned against his shoulder. Her eyes closed. It was fairly strange that the toxin had faded so quickly to even allow her to sleep, but it would do. As long as she wasn't fighting him during this move. Allen started to drive the car to one of Edward's hideouts. He would deal with her there.

He would address this….person…. He gently reached out and brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear so he could see her features closer. …who dared to challenge him.


	3. Dinner

For the few reading, here is the next part. I think there will only be one more chapter after this. Kind of just playing with an EddiexOC mix, though as always OCs are pretty hard to get just right.

* * *

Her head jerked up when she heard a clash of pots and pan. She blinked in confusion as her entire body felt weighted down like she had one of the worse night sleeps in her life. Her body ached, her head pounded, her neck felt cocked to one side. She rolled it to get it back into place. She couldn't remember the dreams, yet she remembered the terrifying sensation of them. Where was she? Her eyes adjusted to the bright light from above and rolled her shoulders and tried to move her arms only to hear a cling and her arms immediately being stopped. She looked down at herself and finally realized the reason for the pain in her neck. She had been sleeping in a chair, and apparently someone had handcuffed her to it. Her jaw locked as she realized who that someone likely was.

While Marylou didn't remember her dreams, she remembered the realistic hallucination she had experienced under the fear toxin. It brought a fresh distaste for the green dressed villain. Her lips pursed as that prior awful feeling lingered, and she pushed it away. That moment was one of the lowest moments in her life, but it had been a wakeup call. The next day she had changed the direction of her life. She would never settle for contentment again. She would never be satisfied for anything less than the best because she deserved the best because she was the best. The next day she had signed up for the LSAT, and the rest led her here…back to this egocentric asshole. She shifted in the chair, somewhat surprised the man had kept her alive. To be honest, she thought if she made it out alive, she would be in the hospital until the GCPD supervision. She rolled her neck again and noticed her necklace was gone. The Riddler must have found the tracking device, hopefully not before the GCPD arrived. When news of the Riddler's escape had arrived, Commissioner Gordon had asked her to be taken to a secure hidden facility. She had declined the offer and suggested a compromise instead. It was a small tracker that she could turn on with a simple press. She should have turned it on immediately, but that henchman had grabbed a hold of her too quickly.

It was a stupid mistake that likely costs someone their life today. God, she was supposed to be better than this, better than him. She wondered if anyone was saved in time and tried to contain the rising guilt. She sucked in a sharp breath and tried to take the time to realize where she was. She looked around the area. It appeared to be a dining area in an apartment, a nice apartment. The wood floors looked new. The apartment was decorated with artwork that one would only expect to see in a museum. The table itself looked like the wood had been imported from Germany, and the rug underneath it looked crafted in India. The only reason she knew it was an apartment was that the entire wall was a window with a view of Gotham City park and the other skyscraper lights. The table itself was set. There were dishes of food on the center of the table with two place settings, one in front of her at the head of the table and another right next to her at the side. Her wrist and her legs were handcuffed.

She frowned and immediately tried to pull her wrist out. The handcuff gave her some room of movement. She could reach out and touch the place setting in front of her, but not much further than that. She winced as she tried to squeeze her hand through the grip, only to find it tightly wrapped around.

"Good. You're awake," she tensed when she heard his voice come from the open kitchen, plastered with marble. Based on his expression, he looked rather annoyed. His green suit looked disheveled, his tie loosened, and his hat and mask removed. He grabbed a bottle of red wine and two glasses and walked to the table. "I did not appreciate your cheating," he bit out.

His statement only confirmed that the tracker must have worked, but if it worked why was she still with him. "You should have told me all the rules before the game began than," she stated to the point as she watched him carefully, expecting a riddle, contraption, any new danger that could occur.

He walked around her and sat in the chair next to her with the place setting. His lip tilted in the barest of smirks. "Touché, Ms. Evans," he said, sounding rather tired, "I've made dinner." He nodded to the display in the center of the table. He then grabbed her plate and started placing a little of each on it, stuffed chicken, sweet potatoes, greens, before putting in back on her placemat. He then filled his own plate and sat down.

Marylou's own brows furrowed at what she was seeing, watching him silently as he then poured wine into the two glasses he brought. "What are you doing?" she finally asked, uncertain what all of this was.

"That is a dumb question," he stated and then put the glass in front of her as well. He sipped his glass of wine before starting to cut into his chicken.

She continued to glance at him and then the food. This had to be some type of riddle. Edward noticed and pursed his lips. "You know its rude to let your host eat alone. It's not poison. If I wanted to kill you so simply, I would have already," Edward remarked and continued to eat.

She stared at him for a moment longer before looking over the food. She then saw the glass of water and immediately reached out for it. The handcuffs clanged against the chair, but she was able to grab the glass and bring it to her lips. She quickly chugged the water, clenching a thirst in her throat she had not noticed she had. She emptied the glass and gasped for air afterwards. She wiped her mouth the best she could and then put the glass down. She could see the smug expression on the Riddler's face and ignored it. She went to the food and started eating quietly next to him. She didn't touch the wine. The last thing she wanted to be near him was intoxicated. They both continued to eat in silence except for the sound of her handcuffs clinging with each movement she made.

When she finally made it through the majority of the meal, which annoyingly to her was actually amazingly delicious, she sat back at the chair and glanced at him. "What time is it?" she asked, curious how long she had been out. Based on his attire, it couldn't have been too long.

Edward continued to chew as he checked his watch. He swallowed and answered, "4:15am," he answered. He then took a sip of wine and leaned back in his chair as well.

She had never seen this side of the Riddler before nor had she heard of anyone speaking of it. The man was known for his constant talking. She didn't know it was possible for him to be in a room with silence without saying a word. She wondered if he would answer any other questions. She didn't want him to snap and stab the knife near him into her neck. "What happened to the others?" she asked.

He frowned, apparently it was the wrong question to ask. His brown eyes shot her a narrow glare. "Well dear, if you remember, you cheated and told Batman our location," he stated and then finished his wine glass and filled his glass again. "I hope you are grateful. That was three days of my time and seven hundred thousand dollars of weapons and equipment all now seized," he remarked.

She would have found it funny if the man wasn't being completely serious. "You appear to be doing fine financial," she commented as she glanced around the nice apartment.

"That's not the point, dear," he snapped and then sighed. He pushed the chair out partially, so he could better face her. He crossed his one leg over the other with his ankle settled on his knee as he held his wine glass. "Now, what to do with you," he said aloud, but it appeared more to himself, "I've been contemplating it since I brought you back. It will take me at least another two days to build another, and by that point I feel like the finesse of it all will be gone. I considered simply slitting your throat and using your limbs to show Gotham what a failure you are, but I can't say that sits right with me since you haven't failed…yet." He took another sip of his wine as he appeared to still be thinking it over. It was rather eerie to listen to him describe the ways he might kill her in such a calm manner. He rolled the glass of wine in his hand and then noticed that her glass was still full. "Drink," he stated.

She met his eyes and shifted in the chair, rather uncomfortable with it all. "I would rather not," she answered simply.

"Drink," he repeated, "We are going to have a conversation and alcohol always makes the words flow more freely. Besides I hate drinking alone," he muttered the last part as he took another sip of his wine.

She glanced at the wine. She suspected only bad things could come from this. She was rather a light weight, and she doubted she could hold a riddle in such a state. She would likely stumble and that would be this man's excuse for her "failing". Then again, if she didn't drink, he would likely find another reason to kill her. She reached out and took a sip of the wine. It reminded her of what she wanted this night to be. A glass of wine, Netflix, cuddling with her cat. "Is Baloo alright? You shut the door when we left, correct?" she asked glancing at him.

He snorted and rolled his eyes. "Yes, your cat is fine. I'm not some type of monster that kills pets," he stated, associating such activities more towards the Joker.

It gave her some relief, and she nodded. "Thank you," she said and then took another sip of her wine. Her eyes looking elsewhere, wondering how she could escape this.

"So all this," he said as he waved his hand in front of her, gesturing to her, "You did for me?" He remarked with a smirk.

That caused her to frown and shoot him a narrowed look. "I did not do this for you," she stated and took a bigger gulp of wine.

Edward laughed lightly. "Based on what I am seeing, you did. Do not get me wrong, dear. I have had an impact on many people's lives. However, most people remember me after I took on the green suit, I find it rather curious that you happen to remember such a small interaction with me before the suit. I must have made quite an impression, not that I am surprised. Perfection has that effect on people," he smirked.

It was her turn to roll her eyes. She would need a lot more alcohol to get through this if this was the conversation he wanted to have. "As I said, I did not do this for you. Not that I even understand exactly what this," she made the same waving motion within the constraints of her cuffs, "means, but I did make changes because…you made some good points." She said the last part softer and then took a larger gulp.

He smirked and leaned a little closer. "What was that? I made good points?" he pried, obviously wanting his ego stroke. The man was as insufferable as he was predictable.

She paused and then nodded. "Yes. While your approach to it was absolutely horrid, I needed a reminder. I have always been a driven individual, and it took some asshole who knew nothing about me to reignite the spark," she answered, feeling her form relax with the alcohol.

He smirked. "I was only being honest. I do pride myself on my honesty," he answered and then shrugged, "Besides it all worked out for the best until you tried to get your little revenge."

"Honest or not. You're not supposed to call a woman fat or ugly," she bit back, growing agitated by him, "And the trial wasn't revenge. I was assigned your case. I pursued your case as I would any other. If you didn't want to be brought to court, you shouldn't have committed the crime."

Edward listened and sipped his own wine. "If the shoe fits," he commented. He appeared to have little to no guilt over the statement. "It's all subjective. What is labeled a crime in one country is a human right in another," he mentioned casually.

The law was the law, but she knew having such an argument with him would be pointless. He had long justified what he was doing was right, and she doubted she would be the person to change his mind. She didn't respond at first, looking at the dinner in front of them. "Seriously Ed…Riddler, what is the point of all of this?" she asked, giving him a sidelong glance, "I know you do not like wasting your time, so why are you taking this time with me? I understand you disagree with the conviction, but I was doing my job. It's like being angry with the mailman for delivering you bad piece of news."

A flash of his temper returned. "That is hardly the same!" he remarked, "The mailman only delivers the mail and has no part of the writing inside. You, on the other hand, had to convince the jury to convict me. You took part in the writing inside," he pointed at her with his wine glass. If she thought she could diminish her role in this, she was mistaken.

"Even so, shouldn't you be thanking me," she snapped right back. "I convinced the jury, no, Gotham, that you're not insane. I managed to convinced them that you are in fact sane and that your actions are that of a sane man. The people of Gotham no longer think you are a crazy whacko running around in a green leotard!" she let her voice raise before she huffed. She then quickly finished off her wine.

Edward's face had become red with anger. It took self-control not to break the glass of wine as his grip tightened around it, but then the words seemed to sink in at what she was suggesting. Of course, he knew he was a sane man. People were idiots and couldn't comprehend what they didn't understand. He had been trying to teach Gotham for years, show them what true intelligence was and recognize the god he was. His grip loosened as he pondered it over. "Interesting conclusion," he said and when he noticed her glass empty, he filled it again and then topped off his own, finishing the bottle. He tapped his finger on the table as he contemplated it. It was hard for Edward to accept or admit that someone might have actually done something right, mostly because it rarely to never happened. People were stupid and thus didn't usually do anything right. "I….suppose your point is valid. The green leotard was flattering by the way," he bit out the last part as he returned to his wine.

She glared at her own wine glass, expecting him to yell at her again, yet when he didn't and instead said that….did he just admit he was wrong? She didn't know he even had the capability to do that. She turned and looked at him with wide eyes. "Does that mean you're going to let me go?" she asked, almost too hopeful as she held out her wrist with the cuffs.

The question made him laugh, and he shook his head. "Hardly, Ms. Evans. In fact, you have piqued my curiosity and become a riddle yourself, and I hate to leave riddles unsolved," he said, which only left her more confused. It was like handling a rollercoaster.

She sighed and then grabbed her wine glass again. "You know you are a tad insufferable," she muttered.

Edward frowned, "I could say the same to you."

She kept glancing at him, the longer the conversation went on the more it seemed like the Riddler didn't plan to kill her, at least not tonight. It allowed her to relax more, and the wine was starting to work its magic. "If you think I'm a riddle, you're going to be fairly disappointed. There isn't much to solve. Pretty boring riddle," she said.

"See that. How are you so self-deprecating yet narcissistically arrogant?" he said as he leaned his elbow on the table to point his finger at her.

She gave him a you-got-to-be-kidding-me look. "Are you seriously calling me a narcissist?" she asked, finding it absolutely ridiculous coming from his mouth.

"Don't spew nonsense to me, dear. I know narcissism when I see it. You think your better than me. I can see it in those green eyes of yours. I saw it during the trial. I saw it during the riddle. I see it now. It is such an infuriating look, I have been tempted to pluck out those pretty eyes of yours all night," he stated, his hand almost reaching forward as if to do that, but he stopped, obviously trying to rile her.

Her green eyes narrowed with the statement. She pressed her lips together, trying to prevent herself from responding and remind herself who she was dealing with. Nonetheless, the words left before she could stop herself. "I am better than you," she said, admitting it. She saw the anger in his features immediately, but she continued anyways. "You want to know why I did this, as you say," waving her hands at herself, "It's because someone like you…like you…thought they were better then me, and I couldn't have that. If someone like you, a complete inconsiderate overrated asshole, thought I was beneath them there was a major imbalance in the world that needed to immediately be corrected. And that's what I fucking did. I corrected it. Because I knew who I was, even with the weight or the job, I knew I was meant for greatness and if someone like you couldn't see it, well I was going to prove them wrong and show them what a fool they were." She kept her eyes locked, leaning towards his space as she lectured him.

She didn't have time to avoid his hand. It grabbed her jaw roughly, jerking it closer to him, causing her chair to tilt in his direction and her body to lean over the table. The grip was painfully tight, and the way he held it caused her lips to pucker out. Her eyes stayed sharp. "I am no fool," he growled.

Even with the grip, her lips smiled partially. "Why do you think you are so confused by this riddle of yours?" she said through his grip, not backing down, "It's because you got me wrong when you first met me, and you can't come to terms with that fact. I wasn't being self-deprecating. There isn't a riddle to solve. I am strong ambitious woman. To admit that to yourself, would be admitting that you had been wrong…making you a fool."

Edward's grip only tightened, causing her to wince with the slight pain. She could see out of her peripheral that he had his other hand around the knife. She likely was about to die, and while the thought terrified her, that look in Edward's eyes certainly brought satisfaction.

He jerked her closer, forcing her chest over the table and the chair to tilt more, her feet barely keeping her stable. She closed her eyes waiting for pain…except it never came.

His lips pressed against hers roughly.

Her body froze, as her brain tried to keep up with what was happening. Part of her wanted to jerk away because this man was one of the worse men she had ever had the experience of dealing with in her life. He was shallow, self-centered, arrogant, not to mention a serial killer. Yet as the kiss deepened and she felt his tongue slip pass her lips, she found herself molding against it. She allowed him to explore her mouth, and even rubbed her own tongue against his as she pressed into the kiss. The excitement of it all only making it more thrilling. She hated to admit it to herself, but even after knowing how awful this man was, she did respect him. It created conflicting feelings she did not want to come to terms with herself. She felt him smirk within the kiss when she didn't fight him, the arrogant bastard was likely going reject her now.

He broke the kiss, and she saw that same smirk she had felt against her own lips. He dropped her jaw, causing her to fall back in her chair without the grip to keep the angle of the chair up. She frowned as she landed back in place, still handcuffed. He looked so smug, and it irritated her.

"New game," he stated, and she mentally prepared herself to be humiliated, "you spend the night with me, I'll let you go in the morning."

She sat in the chair with a befuddled expression. This night only became stranger by the moment. She opened her mouth and then closed it and then opened it again in attempts to find her wording. "This must be a trick. You we're about to kill me if not a few minutes ago, definitely a few hours ago," she said trying to gather footing.

He chuckled and shrugged like an innocent child. "What can I say? I changed my mind. Not to say I can't change my mind again. It is your choice," he remarked and waited patiently.

Marylou did not consider this much of a choice. It sounded like you will either sleep with me or I'll kill you. Though it wasn't like the idea of being with the man in front of her was terrible. For all his poor traits, he was attractive, confident, and charming in a way. In addition, there was the exhilarating aspect of being with someone you knew you should not be with. It would only be one night…

"Fine. I agree," she answered.

"Wonderful!" Edward said with this strange amount of glee for someone who was furious moments earlier. He then stood up and went to her. He leaned down and barely brushed his lips against the lobe of her ear as he whispered, "Give me one moment." He then left, leaving her a tad flustered.

Was this actually happening? She was starting to feel uncomfortable by the whole situation. It wasn't like this was her first time, but it had been a long time since she had been with someone. She had spent so many hours working, it left little time for social activities. She swallowed thickly. It would be fine. He didn't even flat out say sex. He said spend the night. The Riddler was always careful with his words. It could mean they would legitimately just sleep for a night. Though she doubted it. She reached out and grabbed the wine glass that hadn't tipped over in the shuffle. She took a couple of big gulps to calm her nerves.

Edward headed to his office, leaving her to wait. He hadn't expected the evening to move in this direction, but his irritation had turned to curiosity and his curiosity had turned to fascination. While women have spoken harshly to him in the past, the words spoken were often so outrageous that it only confirmed their own idiocy. However, her words held a truth that he could not completely reject. She intrigued him, and he wanted her for himself, at least for tonight. Like most women, they lost their shine after the first use. He went to his desk and pulled out a set of keys and then checked on his security cameras. He made certain everything appeared in place before returning to the dining area.

He paused in the doorway as he rolled the keys in his gloved hand. She looked like a mess in her current state. Her brown hair tangled from all the shuffle. Her makeup from earlier in the evening smudged with her eyeliner running down the side of her face. Dirt from the ground of the abandon house was on her skin. He would normally have nothing to do with a person in such disarray. Her had turned to face him as if she felt him staring. Their eyes met, and he saw the fierceness behind them.

"What are you looking at?" she asked, briefly glancing at herself and then up at him again.

It was like she was completely unaware of her appearance, or she was aware, and she felt she had nothing to be embarrassed about. Even in this state, a mess, no control, she acted like she belonged there. He couldn't determine whether it was bravery, ignorance, or pure stupidity, and it drew him in. He smirked. "You," he answered honestly and then moved towards her. He caught a slight red on her cheeks, and he wondered if she finally had the good sense to be embarrassed or if it was only the alcohol. No matter the answer, he found it rather cute on her features.

Her green eyes seemed to watch him as he moved closer to the chair. He did always love that color. She tilted her head, and he saw the briefest flash of nervousness before she opened her mouth. It reminded him of the moment before she asked him out on a date all those years ago. He should have known then that there was something unique about her. A certain confidence that even when uncertain of the results, she pushes through it anyways. "I know this is likely only to satisfy your curiosity, but I want to be honest, it has been a long time since I last…well I have been told by some that I am rather frigid, so I don't want that to take you by surprise," she admitted with a slight shrug of her shoulder, and he found himself laughing by the end of it. What type of woman admits such a thing before engaging such activities? She didn't even seem insecure the statement, as if she had already accepted herself fully and completely. That was it, that was what drew him to her. Her total acceptance of self for all her faults and flaws.

He smirked and pulled her chair out from the table. "Lucky for you, I have little respect for the opinions of others, and prefer to reach my own conclusions through my own experience," he said as he moved to the handcuff on her left wrist. He used the key and freed her wrist. He then moved to the other handcuff, but with this one he uncuffed the cuff around the chair, leaving the handcuff still attached to her wrist. "Stand up," he said.

This whole experience kept turning to the strangest directions, and she was starting to wonder if she did manage to live through this, how she would explain it to anyone. She doubted it would even be believable. She did as he requested and stood in the chair. She rolled her shoulders with the slight newfound freedom and the ability to get to her legs again. Her hand went to her wrist without the cuff and gently rubbed it, not quite noticing where Edward had moved to until she felt his breath against her shoulder and the heat of his body pressed against her side. It became apparent that this was actually going to happen, and her heart skipped without her permission. She tried to appear neutral as she felt his eyes roam over her backside and then his hand at the zipper of her dress. "We will take this off here in attempt not to ruin your dress. I suspect you would be rather unappreciative if I let you go in only your knickers," he smirked.

She thought of being in only her underwear on the sidewalks of Gotham and immediately shook the idea away. "You would be correct," she answered softly, trying to keep her breathing even as she felt her zipper pull down her back, exposing her skin and the clasps of her bra.

"I usually am," he answered. Once the zipper was fully drawn down, he moved back in front of her. She looked up at him as he appeared to be studying an artistic statue. His eyes roaming over her form as his gloved hands went to the neckline of the dress near the shoulders. He then slowly pulled the dress down on both side, pulling it down along her arms, exposing more bare skin until it slipped completely off her arms. Each moment felt painfully long as she felt the fabric slide off her skin. The handcuffs on her one arm being pulled through the sleeve. The dress than dropped to ankles in a puddle, leaving her in only her bra, underwear and tights. He gave her a once over which almost made her instinctively want to cover herself, but she kept her hands firmly at her side based on her own pride. She did not want him to see the effect he was having on her.

His one hand went and cupped her cheek and jaw, forcing her to look upward and meet his eyes. "I am many things, Ms. Evans," he spoke barely a breath away from her own lips, "but I am always respectful of women's needs. If you ever wish me to stop, tell me, and I will." She would have found it all rather ridiculous coming from a known sociopath, but looking into his brown eyes, he appeared rather serious. As if saying, I might be a criminal, but I am not a rapist. She didn't know how to respond to it because if she allowed this to continue, she would have to admit to herself that a part of her actually wanted this. She preferred seeing it as an exchange, an exchange for her freedom. Yet the way the heated pool in her stomach only grew with the close distance between them, she knew that a sense of desire had taken over.

She swallowed thickly as she made her decision. "You're rather charming when you're not attempting to kill or insult me," she said softly back against his lips. She felt his free hand move around her form and with a slight tug, unclip her bra.

He smirked with the statement. "There is always more than first impressions," he remarked and then let go of her cheek to slip both bra straps off her shoulders and arms, letting the bra fall to the ground, leaving her chest completely bare for him.

She was starting to notice the very apparent imbalance as she glanced at his fully clothed form. He pulled back partially from her, likely to take in a more fuller view, but she grabbed his tie. She tugged it towards her, forcing him back to her until she stood up partially on her toes and pressed her lips against his in a brief almost teasing kiss. Her eyes were half lidded as she slowly let the tie slip from her hand and placed her heels back on the ground. She smirked partially with his somewhat dumbfounded expression. "I hope I am not the only one shedding clothing this evening," she said to make her point.

The kiss had left Edward rather heated and confused. He hadn't expected her to be so forward, but now, he realized he should have known such a fact from the beginning. He smirked with her remark and immediately loosened his tie, already feeling heated under the collar. He dropped it to the ground remembering the exact place. He normally liked to fold his clothes when he took them off, but in such a state, he had little patience. He quickly pulled off his green jacket, dropping it to the ground as well. He then made his way through the buttons on his shirt. Her eyes on him, watching each of his actions intently, only grew the flame of lust. He finally dropped the white-collar shirt, leaving his chest bare and exposed with the question mark scar from his dispute with the Joker. The way her breath hitch made him want to force her into a deep kiss, but he restrained himself. There was a reason, this was happening in the dining room. He still didn't trust her not to run off, and he did not want to chase after her. He grabbed the handcuff that was still attached to her wrist. He then attached the empty end of the handcuff to his own wrist. He then knelt down, keeping his one wrist in the air to not jerk her down with him as he unhandcuffed her legs from the chair. There. That would do. He stood back up and then grabbed her thick brown hair with his free hand and pulled her into a rough kiss.

The click of the handcuff brought her back to reality. Now, she attached to him, she would not be escaping. Yet she did not have long to wallow in such thoughts before he had pulled her into the fog of heat once more. His lips were even more demanding than before, and she was happy to oblige, especially after the short strip show. She always knew Edward Nigma was attractive, even after his entrance into the criminal underwood, it appeared he took more effort to stay in shape. She wanted to touch every inch of him. Her free hand roamed up his chest, feeling each dip of muscle and line of scar while his other went to his side and gripped tightly into his skin, even with the jingling of handcuffs. She molded against his mouth, matching his movements and pressing her form against his.

The grip in her hair left and then two sturdy hands grabbed her thighs, and she was lifted. She broke the kiss at first, catching her breath as she wrapped her one arm around his neck for support and her legs around his waist. She could feel his excitement through his pants as he started to walk with her to some place in the apartment. It only left her hotter, and she leaned down and reclaimed his lips for herself. Her eyes closed as she basked in the feeling, and it wasn't until she felt herself falling back into the soft comfort of a bed did she realize they were even in a bedroom.

Edward was on top of her and broke the kiss to bring his gloved hand to his mouth. He bit the fingertip of the purple glove and pulled it off with his mouth, tossing it off to the side of the bed. His now gloveless hand gently started to touch her skin, leaving her to shutter in anticipation as it slowly moved to her breast. He pulled off his other glove and then leaned down to kiss her once more as his hand squeezed her breast. She moaned softly into his mouth as he back arched, unable to withhold the intensity of it all. She felt him smirk with the result, and he squeezed her breast once more before his hand moved even lower. His hands gripped the edge of her tights and underwear, he then started to pull it down her legs. It was rather difficult with them both being handcuffed together, but she saw the direction it was headed and brought her legs up and closer to her chest to allow him to better remove her tights.

She felt him chuckling from the movement of his chest, and he broke the kiss to look down at her. "Here, I thought you weren't flexible," he remarked with a laugh and then pulled the items completely off her legs, tossing them off.

She smiled partially. "Now, I never said that," she answered and wrapped her legs around his back to jerk him closer in a teasing manner before letter her legs fall back to the bed, keeping them spread as he settled in between them.

Their eyes met, and she could see lust written across them. She suspected her own gave a similar message. She could feel him through his pants, and she wanted him. She felt his hand trailing down her stomach, and her breath hitch as his fingers slid between her folds and pressed against the bud of nerves. While it left her body reeling for him as he started to rub the spot, she already knew she needed so much more. She leaned forward and husked against the lobe of his ear through strained breath, "Foreplay is overrated. I want you inside me." Her hips bucked up against him as if to make her point.

Edward didn't need to be told twice. He quickly went to his own pants and undid the buckle and zipper, freeing himself as he trailed his lips along her jaw line. "You are an odd woman," he husked and then brought his shaft against her entrance. He gripped her hips and then pressed himself inside of her and moaned as her heat encompassed him and he felt her body stretch to accommodate his girth. She had not been lying. She was tight as if it had been a long time since she had done this.

She kept her legs spread as she felt his heat press up against her and then push in. Her mouth gasped open as he pushed through the muscles. God, she had forgotten what this felt like, and to have someone his size was something else altogether. Her one hand gripped at his chest for support as he stretched her. She felt him kept pushing until his full length was shielded inside of her. Her nails dug into his chest. "This is why your so arrogant," she said through strained breathing, more to herself.

He smirked partially, waiting for her to better adjust to his size. He glanced over her features. "What do you mean?" he pried.

Her green eyes gave him an annoyed look. "You know what I mean," she answered.

He smirked and leaned down to kiss her once more. With the kiss, she molded against it and felt him slowly pull all the way out to only push back in, the process repeated, as he slid in and out of her, developing a pace. She moaned as the slight discomfort turned to pleasure, and her own hips lifted to match each thrust into her. His one hand grabbed her leg, pushing it up against her chest as the other that was handcuffed went and grabbed her wrist, trapping it on the bed. She felt pinned to the bed as he increased his pace with the better angle and the feeling of being trapped in such pleasure only increased it all more. She could barely control herself as she pressed against him, reaching closer to the edge. His lips moved to her jaw and down to her neck. She felt him suck on the skin and then bite deep into it. She hissed with pain, but it turned to pleasure. She moaned deeply as his chest rubbed against her nipples with each rocking movement and it all only intensified. She felt like her body was racing to the edge, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

She moaned his name loudly as her entire body tensed and then shook underneath him as she fell into absolute ecstasy. It was amazing.

Edward had become captivated by the woman underneath him, yet he always like to treat the women he bedded like his own personal rose garden. This felt different. There was a lingering anger that made him want to be a tad rough, to cause a slight pain, to trap her, but it all seemed to only make her hotter and watching her flush face and the way her body adjusted to him only made him hotter as well. He felt trapped in a cycle, unable to pull away with each passing movement. As she shuttered and tipped into orgasm underneath him, screaming his name, there was nothing he could do, but follow suit. He moaned and slammed deep inside of her, spilling his seed and riding out his high with a couple of rocking movements. Fuck, that was actually pretty good.

They both caught their breath, and Marylou looked up at him with those tempting green eyes. He stayed inside of her, keeping himself supported above her form, trying to figure out her thoughts. They did not say anything at first, and then he saw a slight smile on her lips. "Again?" she asked. He smirked, and in response kissed her hard.

* * *

In the morning, she stirred in the green satin sheets of the bed, stretching out her arms. Her body felt sore, similar to the last time she woke, but this was a different type of sore, a good type of sore. The king size bed was luxurious and comforted her form in all the right ways. She winced when she felt a pain in her shoulder. They had sex three more times last time, and each time that followed became more aggressive and rough. Edward had even taken off the handcuff to give himself more freedom. While it all had been great during, her body was now bruised. She knew she shouldn't have enjoyed it as much as she had, but she would go insane if she denied how spectacular it had felt. It was better to accept it, and put it aside. After all, she hadn't had much of a choice. Why not at least enjoy it?

Speaking of, she finally noticed that she was the only one in bed. She stretched again and then looked around the room she had hardly noticed last night. There was a lot of green and similar to the other room in his apartment. However, the walls were empty. There really was only the bed she laid on and a chair in the corner, which she found a tad odd. In the chair, she saw her clothes nicely folded. She shifted out of the large bed. She almost stumbled with the first step, but stabilized herself as she moved towards her clothing. On top of her clothing was a letter, with beautiful written handwriting. She opened up the letter.

 _Ms. Evans,_

 _It is plain to see that we have had many disagreements, and I do not suspect it to change in the future. However, I rather enjoyed the evening together and getting to know you pass such…let's say…misunderstandings. I am a man of my word, and therefore, you are free to leave at your leisure. I have left shampoo, conditioner, and soap in the shower in case you wish to take one. I have also left a small selection of breakfast on the kitchen counter. As you might have already noticed, I have moved out the majority of my items to a different location. I suspect you will be informing the idiotic and incompetent GCPD of this location, and I did not want to have their dirty hands on my collection. With that, I will say farewell._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Edward Nigma_

 _P.S. You are not frigid._

Marylou read the note a few times in disbelief. She then went out into the hallway and dining area to see in fact, he had moved the majority of his items from the entire apartment. She stood there in the open area, noticing the display of fruits and pastries on the counter. She was in disbelief. She had actually managed to escape the Riddler alive. Of course, she had only become a notch in his belt, but the fact that she was breathing made it all worth it though she would have to create a more reasonable explanation to share with the GCPD and District Attorney's office. For now, she would be thankful. She grabbed a grape and placed it in her mouth. She chewed around it and hummed to herself as the flavor touched her tongue.

Yes, for now be grateful. She was alive.


End file.
